


all that I ask you

by Sapphire_blue



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, R plus L equals J, so much fluff man idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_blue/pseuds/Sapphire_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it’s the pure joy running through his veins or the soft smile on Arya’s face that he presses a kiss on the corner of her mouth and laces his fingers with hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all that I ask you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Kind of based on this: [Texts From Westeros](http://stick-them-with-the-pointy-end.tumblr.com/post/137233402025/texts-from-westeros-arya-stark-and-the-prom) or, okay, those texts were based on this story.
> 
> Oh, and, Stef, I started writing this for your birthday. I know I'm months late, but happy birthday, love!

Arya shows up at Jon's doorstep at eight in the morning. She knocks on the door twice before it's yanked open by a bleary looking Aunt Lyanna. Muttering a quick 'good morning' to her, she darts inside the house and sprints up the stairs to Jon's room, leaving a very confused aunt at her wake. She'd have to apologize to her later, though. This is a matter of emergency, which is why she doesn't feel any guilt when she pours the glass of ice cold water Jon keeps at his bedside table over his head. He sputters awake and glares up at her. Suddenly, it seems to occur to him that Arya is in his room at eight in the morning and he's shirtless and he quickly snatches the quilt up to his chin.

Arya rolls her eyes, "Jon, I've seen you shirtless plenty times. Get over it."

Jon's grip on the quilt doesn't loosen and he slowly sits up, blinking at her.

"Arya, it's nine in the fucking morning on a Sunday," he rasps, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Any other time, she'd have been amused by his swearing, but she's here on a life or death matter, after all. So, she lets it pass.

"You can get your beauty sleep later," she quips at him, "I'm in the middle of a crisis here."

That seems to snap him out of his blinking state. "Crisis? What sort of crisis? Are you okay?"

" 'Course I'm okay," she pauses momentarily, "Ned asked me to prom."

“That’s your crisis?” Jon cries out, incredulous, and then answers it himself, shaking his head in exasperation, “Of course it is. How did he ask you?"

"Does that matter?" At his unflinching stare, she mumbles, "He wrote it in a box of donuts that we ordered last night."

"That's stupid," Jon mutters to himself, "I could have done better."

A snort escapes Arya before she can stop it, "Jon, Ygritte had to ask you out because you kept jumbling your words up, remember?"

"I try not to remember those dark days," he mutters, "what'd you tell Ned?"

"I….may have run away,” Arya admits warily.

"Arya!"

"And then I may have texted him that I'm already going with someone else."

"Who?" Jon asks warily. 

"You." 

"Arya!"

"What? Would you rather I said yes to him?"

Jon immediately scoffs, "Of course not. But I would have appreciated it if you had just asked me."

"Well, I’m asking you now," Arya stares at him, her lips tugged down in a pout, and Jon sighs, knowing he could never say no to that face.

"Do you even have a ticket? It’s only a week until prom. Aren’t they all sold out?”

“Shireen’s on the Prom Committee,” she says, “She saved me two. Best Friend Privilege.”

“Isn’t that, you know, illegal?” Jon asks, eyes wide in surprise. Or, perhaps, it is mock surprise. Arya really does not care right now.

“Illegal, schmelegal,” she dismisses the idea with a snort and a wave of her hand, “Point is, I have the tickets and you’re going with me.”

“You still haven’t asked me,” Jon smirks at her.

“What do you mean, I totally asked you,” Arya sputters.

“You haven’t said the words,” he says and his smile is so infuriating that Arya wants to smack it off his face.

“Alright, fucking go to Prom with me,” she pauses, and then adds, almost as if as an afterthought, “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Jon smirks, and if he didn’t have such a pretty face, Arya would have punched him in the jaw. But he did just do her a massive favour, so she forgives him. This time.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she impulsively leans down to hug him, and he yelps, before reluctantly hugging her back.

“Now, please, get out of my room, I need to go back to sleep,” at Arya’s mischievous grin, he sighs long-sufferingly, “I’m not going back to sleep, am I?”

“Nope,” she beams at him and tosses a shirt in his face, producing it from somewhere behind her – Jon does not even know when she managed to pick it up – and orders, “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

 

*     *     *

 

On the night of Prom, Jon waits in the Starks’ living room, fiddling with his cufflinks even as Aunt Catelyn and his mother giggle mirthfully somewhere around the corner. Every now and then he can hear the _click click_ sound of a camera; he suspects they are taking pictures of him to later laugh over, or coo over, or whatever it is that the two women do when they are alone.

He bounces on the balls of his feet a bit, and thinks back to his friends’ reactions to the news. Sam had shaken his head at Jon, as if exasperated, and had muttered something inaudible. Gren and Pyp had laughed and teased him until he’d promised to sic Arya on them. They had wisely shut up after that. His friends were mildly scared of Arya, for whatever reason. Personally, Jon thinks it is because of Arya’s fondness over all things sharp that can be used as weapons. It could also be the time when he had left her alone with his friends for a few hours to run an errand and had come back to find Arya smirking and his friends severely traumatized. To this day, he still does not know what exactly took place in his absence. When asked, his friends had look so disturbed that Jon took pity on them and ceased his questions. Arya, on the other hand, had only grinned smugly at him and said, “I showed them why exactly you don’t mess with women.”

He is snapped out of his thoughts by the clicking of heels on the stairs. Vaguely, he registers that his mother and Aunt Catelyn had stopped laughing, but he pays little attention to them. His eyes are fixed on the vision in front of him. He forces himself out of his sappy stupor, fully aware that Arya will tease him forever if she is to be aware of the things going through his head right now. She may also slap him, but Jon doesn’t think he would mind.

“You look beautiful,” he tells her, belatedly offering the red corsage.

“Thanks,” she grins, and he can tell that she still feels unsure. Jon understands her uncertainty. Dresses are not Arya’s forte, but boy does she look breathtaking in them.

“You really do,” he assures her, and she holds out her wrist to him with a smile.

“The corsage, Jon,” she reminds him when he stares at the pale wrist, “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble, you know.”

“’Course I did,” he says, tying the corsage around her wrist, his touch lingering on her skin just a little longer than necessary, “Just because you asked me as a back up plan doesn’t mean I’m not going to make it good for you. You only go to prom once.”

“Unless you’re Jon fucking Targaryen,” Arya mutters in an undertone, “Okay, here’s the thing, I’m going to tell you a secret.”

“What is it?”

“I was already going to ask you to go as my date, but I panicked and kept putting it off,” she admits quietly, “Then Ned asked me, and I freaked out and said your name.”

“Wow,” Jon says, momentarily lost for words.

She offers him a sheepish smile.

The clearing of throats behind them reminds him that they are not alone, and he curses himself for forgetting where they are. Arya seems to be doing the same, if the grimace on her face is anything to go by.

“Arya, darling, you look beautiful,” his mother tells the youngest Stark girl with a smile.

“Thanks, Aunt Lya,” Arya beams.

“You really do look beautiful,” Aunt Catelyn tells her, misty eyed, “Doesn’t she, Ned?”

Jon is kind of mortified to realize that all the other Starks had shown up during his dazed state, but he hides it under a smile when he meets Robb’s eyes.

“My child, you look absolutely lovely,” Ned Stark tells his youngest daughter, moving in to hug her.

Arya murmurs her thanks into his father’s chest, and Jon sees Sansa smile to herself smugly from the corner of his eyes.

The rest of Arya’s siblings crowd around her to offer their compliments, and his Uncle move to stand beside him.

“You take care of my little girl, you hear me?” He demands sternly.

Jon resists the urge to point out that Arya doesn’t need to be taken care of, and even if he tried to, she would likely laugh and do something reckless just to spite him. But he respects his Uncle Ned too much, so he only says, “Yes, sir.”

Ned Stark nods at him approvingly, and perhaps with a bit of pity mixed in too, but Jon doesn’t get enough time to question it because in that moment, Arya comes to stand next to him to pose for pictures. They both suffer through more of their mothers’ giggling and suddenly, they are being pushed through the door and climbing into a limousine.

Shireen and her date, Devan Seaworth are inside, and they don’t look at him strangely, and maybe it’s the pure joy running through his veins or the soft smile on Arya’s face that he presses a kiss on the corner of her mouth and laces his fingers with hers.

“Alright there, Jon?” She asks, eyes sparkling with mirth.

All too aware that the other occupants of the car have their eyes fixed on them with entirely too much amusement and that he does not even care, he grins back at her, “Never been better.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry for the huge delay in between updates. I swear on my love for all things sharp that I will get to work on them immediately. I swear it! Moving on, this fic was a bit fluffier than what I normally write, so I sincerely hope I haven't overdone it. I am more of an angst type of girl, if you couldn't tell. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it, and if you have the time, please leave me a kudos or a comment. They always brighten up my day. Constructive criticism is welcome, and if I have made a mistake anywhere, please tell me so I can fix it. Thank you!
> 
> ~ Sapphire


End file.
